"desirous" poems
it's 3:23 in the morning
and I'm awake
because my great great grandchildren
won't let me sleep
my great great grandchildren
ask me in dreams
what did you do while the planet was plundered?
what did you do when the earth was unraveling?
surely you did something
when the seasons started failing?
as the mammals, reptiles, birds were all dying?
did you fill the streets with protest
when democracy was stolen?
what did you do
once
you
knew?
I'm riding home on the Colma train
I've got the voice of the milky way in my dreams
I have teams of scientists
feeding me data daily
and pleading I immediately
turn it into poetry
I want just this consciousness reached
by people in range of secret frequencies
contained in my speech
I am the desirous earth
equidistant to the underworld
and the flesh of the stars
I am everything already lost
the moment the universe turns transparent
and all the light shoots through the cosmos
I use words to instigate silence
I'm a hieroglyphic stairway
in a buried Mayan city
suddenly exposed by a hurricane
a satellite circling earth
finding dinosaur bones
in the Gobi desert
I am telescopes that see back in time
I am the precession of the equinoxes,
the magnetism of the spiraling sea
I'm riding home on the Colma train
with the voice of the milky way in my dreams
I am myths where violets blossom from blood
like dying and rising gods
I'm the boundary of time
soul encountering soul
and tongues of fire
it's 3:23 in the morning
and I can't sleep
because my great great grandchildren
ask me in dreams
what did you do while the earth was unraveling?
I want just this consciousness reached
by people in range of secret frequencies
contained in my speech
©2003
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
<>
No, He said.
I want you
wanting.
*I want to taste the miracle of your desperation,
need,
lick the sweet sweat of tense from the hairline well hid
on the back of your pleasuring neck.
I need your needing constant completion,
but not succeeding.
The airborne aroma of your desires are fiery, arousing,
stimulus sensating me by the unending beauty of dissatisfaction,
this virus desirous, infection, makes my perpetual wanting
for an incomplete perfect woman,
forever seeking betterment,
perfectly complete.*
<>
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 12:54 PM UTC
***If I were a Rainbow
The children would run to me
Turning upside down, I would be an iridescent swing,
The children would mount my rainbow wing
Swaying high up in the starry skies ascending on the moon
The children do bunny jumps, counting stars till noon
Awestruck and desirous they pick a few
The colours pink purple orange magenta and blue
Swaying down to the flower garden
They would pick flowers from the boughs laden
Threading in a star and a flower into an ornamental garland
Adorned as neckpieces , running around ,making one happy land
If I were a Rainbow
I would dismember all the semicircles making one hula hoop
The children would gleefully twirl and sway into the enormous loop
If I were a Rainbow
I would become one big ramp
The children would joyously roller skate up and down
Lighting up the ramp
If I were a Rainbow
And all of these came true
I would turn upside down making one radiant smile across the sky
The children would happily smile back at me , waving me good bye***
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 11:49 PM UTC
two women
a single
Gemini
of desire
the yin
the yang
betwixt
the known
and unreachable
swinging
on wide
arcs of
extremis
inhabiting
opposite
polar worlds
and all
the spaces
in between
intrepid
sailors
dare hope
to explore
T
the outer
R
the inner
T’s
tiny
name
betrays
a big
robusto
femininity
bombastically
womanly
big *****
jazz *****
perfumed musky
hips and ****
that rock
and those
lips
oh,
those ruby red
Norma Jean lips
I’m puckered
up
begging her
to paste a big
rouge smooch
on my eager lips
press those
bustling bosoms
onto my face
wrap those
arms round me
with a rasperous
hug
shake me
with gyrations
of your gracious
shimmy thang
you wow
the bow
out of this
dog
taking lovers
prisoner
with the
coy blink
of wide
eyes
flashing
lashes
batting
brow
boldly
being
a force
of a
mothers
nature
bearing
and
belting
Bessie’s
*****
blues
to a
howling
crowd
wanting
more
fully
enthralled
bedazzled
enraptured
with quixotic
hypnotics
I'm frozen
solid
hoping to
melt
into the
heat
of your
inviting
fire
R
bespeaks
whispers
from an
inner place
she lines the
lost desires
of a yearning heart
she offers the
softest curves
the delicious touch
the wet presence
of a delicate tongue
limpid fingers
hide shy sly
*******
offering
invitations
to hidden nests
humming the incarnate
dark forest secrets
of bloomed lilacs
and sweet carnations
the voice of poems
dance and flutter
from her mouth
as the lightest
butterfly
wings wayward
onto soft hearts
yearning
seducement
her
kimono
gently parts
at the slightest
suggestion
of a rising
breeze
her songs
invite lovers
to pillowed
chambers
daring
intrepid
men to
risk the
death of
desirous
tempests
I melt
into the
delicate
complexity
of your
fleshy heat
my dear
celestial
twins
the lovely
Gemini
each different
reduce me
in differing ways
to a puddle
of rippling water
reflecting
the glorious
elegance of
wondrous
ambrosial
femininity
Dedicated to
T& R
Music Selection:
Barbra Streisand
Pretty Women
Oakland
4/26/12
jbm
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 10:56 PM UTC
first I smell myself.
the deep bass tonality of my musk,
hot, creamy, sweetness unique, of coffee and creamy,
my owned sweat oiled secretions massaged into her skin
emplaced by vigorous parts rubbing and tongue caressing,
under the fading shadows of my glancing, desirous admirings
then I smell herself.
sinking sunset glimpses of last nights parfume parfait,
scattered in random strategic locations architecturally planned,
some flavors come over me like modest waves,
others spelunking found in crevices, cracks and caves,
where humans tread in guileless search of guiltless pleasure
then I smell our sharings.
lemon and thyme, paprika, sea salt and pepper,
a basted rub laid upon animal skin consuming, and consumed,
the vinaigrette balsamic and California yellow raisins, pine nuts,
decorating leaves of red soil spinach and spicy arugula,
word salads, so miraculously ingenious, you swear off eating flesh
then I smell our combinations.
the air conditioned atmosphere that blends us properly chilled,
the olive oils pressed from two colored differing skins,
the mortal and pestle finely grinding our own fresh crumbled dirt,
appearing in places where dirt is wet panko crumbs encrusting us,
our combined liquidity, shaken and stirred, drying in martini tandem
it is 8:17am and this recipe of reciprocity,
at its most pungent peaking,
for soon raining waterfalls of potable city water
and the sophistry of French soap,
the pseudoscience of modern chemical shampoo,
together erasing, scrubbing away this poems aromatherapy tapestry,
your perplexed complexing nostrils will mock you once more,
for ever disbelieving, thinking you could no longer write of
only love poetry that crested high above the trite
Friday, March 29 2019
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 8:40 AM UTC
'Neath canopy of paradise
Super troupers' shafts of light
Illuminate his terpsichore;
***** he struts, the impresario
Gyrating on spindle shanks;
Needle thin and knock-kneed
He dances a samba
On stage of verdure;
Midst Elvis blue-black thrusts,
Steel rimmed amber orbs
Seek admiring and desirous glances
From the dour drab hen,
Mousy in her beige twin set
And mottled tweed skirt;
With nonchalant disinterest she exits
The arena; audition over.
Jun 24, 2010
Jun 24, 2010 at 11:40 AM UTC
Brown-eyed girl
I draw them in with my eyes
Always such a surprise they
Cannot let me go I
Curse them so and they
Latch onto a substance that
Will let them be free what
They cannot understand is
It will always be me because
Once I have got you, you cannot forget
I’m a Russian roulette I’m a
Desirous bet I’m a game of poker
That you have already lost but
This game’s on the table
No matter the cost I’m your price
That you pay when you think you
Have won but when you tie off
To have me you’ll see you’ve done what's
Become quite the fight, a hopeless pursuit
For this trail of honey, I'm
Forbidden fruit.
Jan 23, 2010
Jan 23, 2010 at 9:28 PM UTC
You laid me down gently,
Just as gentle as i wanted.
You reassured me of my uncertainty.
You made sure i was okay.
There was that cold tightness in my chest,
That sank right through me until
I could feel it in my spine.
As this feeling has once left me scared and shaken,
I made my decision.
Than you made your first move,
And all the colors i have ever seen lit up my mind.
And a fire lit in my stomach and the flames moved up my spine.
Until you reached my neck and arranged a small kiss.
Your lips extinguished my fire and left my bones bare.
Hold on for dear life,
I felt something adjust inside me.
And that was not as suggestion for the actions at hand.
But something happened in my soul
That left me forever thirsting for your touch.
Not in the desirous way i had before,
But as though the atoms of my heart,
And every particle that made up the pathetically helpless being i call myself,
Needed you.
They would not be the same without you,
i am stuck on you.
Addicted to you.
And every moment without you feels like sudden death,
A draw of my logical mind and these particles of my being.
Its absolutely absurd how reliant i am on you.
Well i have no other way to put it,
But in the least poetic and mysterious way possible,
I guess that's what happens when you take a lonely girl's virginity.
They become addicted.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 3:35 PM UTC
I slept with her, my rapacious pen, took me in quiet vengeance in
full on conjugation
raken and taken, me,
her overlording me now, her authorship, so long held
in my maledom abeyance,
a kept imprisonment, unleashing at last, a tongue lashing~leashing,
de-spite my un-desirous craven lying supplications,
excuses of innocence and accident, coincidence and conflation,
ashes, ashes, denials incinerated, all fall down
she wrote/stabbed upon my heartless chest,
in the cheap crudités colors of a prisoner’s inking,
“user of words mine, all mine”
gathered up my innards of loose words,
speculative notes & titles yet to be,
born and kept hid in password protected silent back labor files,
now hers, leaving me sputtering, unable to create,
a homeless mute citizen, possession-less,
helplessly hoping her hovering harlequin might relent,
without any shelter, even a glimmering, a single aleph or bet
she celebratory cackled and clawed,
professed her reclamation ownership of all my poems predecessors,
zola j’accusing that I, ripped from her forcibly,
with no granted permission, her womanly touché of my scribing,
warning of no more global warming for my unprivileged hands,
daren’t try for pretenses of stolen legal guardianship,
warning of a new, forced caining inscription,
a tattooing of “thief” upon my 5 knuckled right ******
“plagiarist” boldly inked in back & blue upon my left palm
I, predator,
she, victim,
of my now self-professed, admitted confess,
she, my single victim,
of a decade long serializing criminal coverup
her parting poem a threatening,
herein issued in this very verse,
damning all who would falsely credit themselves,
to suffer shame and an unimaginable curse,
this, the newborn eleventh of ten commandments
parting, she kissing my lips, even my emptied apertures,
with warning bitings,
she knew all my
my numerous noms de guerre,
no dead scrolls caves to hid in, and to be discovered some future day,
and if ever marked as copyrighted,
’twas no tunneling escape,
the exposed truth to be over-stamped
upon all, upon each, in every language,
”copied right from the tongue of a woman!”
and she would be wright...
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 10:10 AM UTC
She is beautiful when she dreams
Dreams of yesterday, dreams of tomorrow
Soft smoky dreams of places far, times long past
Hard, wanton dreams of blood and steel
And dreams of misted green fields
wrapped in the scent of a spring morning
Cloud shrouded dreams of mountaintops
Caressed by gentle sunny breezes
Dreams of the milky moonlight
Wrapped about the night like stark lace
Passionate dreams of love and laughter
The taste of hot skin and warm tears
Desirous dreams
Of life, of meaning, of fulfillment
Dreams of romance that make her eyes shine
Dreams of lust and adventure that make her glow
I see her reposed, dreaming her dreams
White as ivory, fine and chiseled
Eyes closed, lips full, peaceful and content
She is beautiful when she dreams.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 4:37 PM UTC
Girt in dark growths, yet glimmering with one star,
O night desirous as the nights of youth!
Why should my heart within thy spell, forsooth,
Now beat, as the bride’s finger-pulses are
Quickened within the girdling golden bar?
What wings are these that fan my pillow smooth?
And why does Sleep, waved back by Joy and Ruth,
Tread softly round and gaze at me from far?
Nay, night deep-leaved! And would Love feign in thee
Some shadowy palpitating grove that bears
Rest for man’s eyes and music for his ears?
O lonely night! art thou not known to me,
A thicket hung with masks of mockery
And watered with the wasteful warmth of tears?
3.5k
Out seaward to the horizon I see Forgiving hills where lessons fade,
Projections of my desirous plea
Patiently await their farewell to bade,
Look now for at their peak the sun is setting,
With an orange hue caressed blue sky,
And white clouded streaks like thought forgetting,
Senses renewed—our demons die.
Can you see that place where intrigue resides,
Beyond those hills ‘neath the sky turned red?
For there the heaven and earth collides,
Pervading all hope in our angels stead.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 7:28 AM UTC
Waiting for him,
Was like a,
Mindless abyss.
I thought,
This time I should give it a shot.
Add plus venture,
Into a realm full with pleasures of flesh.
Rather waiting to lie in sepulcher.
Thence came the wooers,
On horses, chariots, planes and cars,
Courted me to the foreign lands of brand new emotions.
Greasy, exotic, curious and even obscure ,
To satiate my hunger,
They poured,
And I sinfully devoured.
Ooooh!
A whip here.
Ouuch!
A tickle there.
Aahhhhh!!
The sheer unfolding of their classy work.
Every night lusciously they came,
Wrapped me in an awe of satire, skepticism and imagination,
Not to say of the bruises they gave,
Tears I shed of Anger,Pain ,Love and Hate.
Still I followed them blindly and agape,
Because a new world in me was taking shape.
Of Shakespeare, Freud, Tolstoy, Eliot, Byron, Wordsworth and my then fav,
the great Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
A medley of fantasy, fact-fiction, comedy, realism and romance.
Oh!
What not I chanced upon.
All emphasizing emotion, imagination, scientific and natural thought.
There was no stopping of these gnawing hunger pangs,
None lasted more than a one night stand.
The foolish me, unaware, cascaded in the fatal encounters,
Not knowing the pangs are of soul to reach the supreme ******
Thence came a Seer
The Prophet,
The Wanderer,
The Forerunner,
It was as if he can rip me with his thoughts,
And see my soul through that tear…..
I distinctly remember that divine night,
The moment I held him in my desirous hands,
I was no more in dual fight.
Things started falling into place,
Was no more in that abysmal space.
Still I would say,
It’s a current phase.
This soon would also evade.
New Lover ,
For every new night…
To cut a long story short,
Just so,
Because of your low attention span,
The lover, the poet , the wooer
Was the great
Khalil Gibran.
Jul 5, 2010
Jul 5, 2010 at 1:05 PM UTC
Reaching out for what delivers its existence
The thirsty tree extends its limbs further to the sun
An encounter craved, but still valuing its bestowment
Forever longing anxiously for that connection
The summer winds carrying this hopeful firefly
Emitting the lonely light that calls out for another
Releasing these signals in hopes of discovering you
Again a flicker and finally the mate is matched
Sprinting to the sea, the relentless river runs
Passionately carving its way through the slighted landscape
Obviously enraptured by its desirous charge
Awaiting the second its frenzied rush reaches home
Like the sun now churning our eager energy
Overthrowing senses with this rampantly raging need
Overwhelming magnetism lures us toward temptation
Inescapably mesmerized by this sensation
Profound in nature, driven by this timeless dance
Sophisticatedly conjoining into fulfillment
A base for these unbridled electrical impulses
The quintessence of our fusion now realized
We are the union of two wandering forces
Ignition progresses affectionate meditations
Quietly absorbing the synthesizing of segments
Once unrelated, now entangled eternally
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 2:17 PM UTC
Wet for my blood
Wet for my sweat
Hunger over me
Wet for the ache between my eyes
Desirous seams
Tying the noose to the phyxi ****
Does it make you ******* wet?
Grasping the lines of this broken spine
Indebted till death
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC
Honeysuckle running deep in nostril's recollection
Wafting nectar dripping in air, please stop
Must stay present, no time for memory swap
Sneaking in, yellowed dreams, desirous confection
O purgatory, keep me still, deviate no such inflection
Causeway flash backing egg yolk, and lemon spectrum
Road lined in runners, speckling scintillation
This loose maddening of honeysuckle titillation
Reverse your tendril's twist, quivers an ungated septum
Covers, green to yellow transitions, honeysuckle bedlam
I cannot dance down this lane for fear of you
Your ringlets curl, clasp, coil me
On such road of alluvial soil I see
How can I? Must I, escape steer of dew?
You're honeysuckle memory of all I knew
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 9:58 AM UTC
1
Rain's blue-black cloak, tied with rainbow girdle,
visible over the green hills,across rice fields,
she waves and rushes forward.
From distance, the incessant chant
of South-West monsoon,
sounds like a mature witch practicing her craft.
One would think,she is all evil,dark
the overcast sky her sinister cloak,
But under my umbrella
a coy maiden, i desired from afar,
who walk with me step by matching step
with all the cunning tricks of love
trying to entice me with her soft body's tunes,
her tender cool fingers rubbing my cheeks,
her unmistakable lover's touch eager, transgressing
desirous of getting me in to her arms.
2.
She makes me mad
i throw away my umbrella
in the rambunctiousness of a teenager and run with her,
at once her naughty hands pinch and tickle me
then an intense embrace that makes me shiver
with the deep pleasure, I drempt in wakeful nights,
joy of life that rain tune and smell of damp earth evoke!
The green loud glee in me it creates!
In dreams, rain come to me
and tells me the secrets of night
that I long for my love and me alone.
3
Rain, the seductress who taught me
the secret passions of living and loving,
and the burning sensation, of love
that runs deep in the core of one's being.
When I lay awake, in a monsoon night,
outside my window, she plays tango,
wind holding her by the waist, with fierce passion,
that keeps me awake til,
I get absorbed in a dream
that has passionate love as the under current.
)O(
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 3:09 PM UTC
Fashionable entourage
people dance in step
to the beat of hidden
native rituals
Hidden here and there
seeing a pair clad up to the hilt
with colored shades
cool as mountain glades
that never
shakes or simmers
on fire
a real deep desirous searching soul
Rapping about nothing
even though
face to face
words bounce off expressions
as cool as mountain glades
that soon melt-fade
into the distance
Rap, tap, clap
never nap
the cannibus-filled room
embellished by flashing lights
on nights
that take spatial flights
into another world that enters upon
lounging everywhere
people lost in space,
in time,
in androgynous acts
In vogue, you speak to me
about fashions
that dazzle, frazzel, razzle,
and lip curl
and eye twinkle
me to you,
in real
but unreal
cannibus-sweet-dusky-dreamy-rooms
MTV blotched, bleached
Sergio Valente dungarees,
then a real feeling child cries
in the background
and is soon hustled off to bed
And never a hurt we laugh
and smile
and smile
A frozen smile grin;
take it on the chin sport
Keep up the good front
Keep up the grinning fort sport
A sported fort fortified Disneyland
and life's forever
carousel ride
and sweep the dirt under the carpet
A speak about profits
And speak about"ME" yuppie things;
about golden rings
that wrap around ears, around wrists, and cattle noses
Seek time entwined
to search geometrically
the advertisements
that lead you
and nobody but you to you
A love ballad between
one and no one but you
You and you
and you
and you
Being good you
you being good to you,
Being good to nar-sa-see-you
you being good to only you,
to yoou
to yoou
to yoooooooooou
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 4:18 AM UTC
Enter Pygmalion
Sculptor of my flesh
Firm hands of a man
Desirous of himself
Ego outstripping
Lust driving
Hard stone chipped
The night sounding
Like an uneven clock
Tic tic tic with nary a toc
And the outer shell of my existence
Slowly fades
Chunks and
White marble dust
Removed to find my bust
My curves
My lips
My stony eyes
Fake garbs
With hard wrinkles
My shoulders sanded to perfection
Carefully crafted collarbone
Body finally fully formed
The master Artisan
Find his own enslavement
Obsession with his own creation
Thus all other loves pale in comparison
Perhaps that is the curse or fate
Of all true Artists
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 11:43 AM UTC
my paris begins with
those early days
as a conscious flaneur
i recall the couple
seated opposite me
on the metro
when i was still innocent
of its labyrinthine complexity
slim pretty white girl
clad head to toe in denim
smiling wistfully
while her muscular black beau
stared through me
with fathomless orbs
and one of them spoke
almost in a whisper
qu'est-ce-que t'en pense
and it dawned on me
yes the young parisienne
with the distant desirous eyes
was no less male than me
dismal movies
in the forum des halles
being screamed at in pigalle
and then howled at again
by some kind of madman
or vagrant who told me
to go to the bois de boulogne
to meet what he saw
as my destiny
menaced
by a sinister skinhead
for trying on tessa's
wide-brimmed hat
getting ****** in les halles
with sara
who'd just seen
dillon as rusty james
and was walking in a daze
sara again with jade
at the caveau
de la huchette jazz cellar
cash squandered
on a gold tootbrush
two tone shoes
from close by
to the place d'italie
portrait sketched
at the place du tertre
paperback books
by symbolist poets
but second hand volumes
by trakl and deleve
and a leather jacket
from the marche aux puces
porte de clignancourt
losing gary's address
scrawled on a page
of musset's confession
walking the length
and breadth of the rue st denis,
what an artist's paradise
(as juliette once wrote me).
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 7:23 AM UTC
The
***tilt of my seesaw
is decidedly downward facing dog:
and there’s no rush to judgment,
for the powers that be,
be delighted by slow-walking,
making the waiting
max-tortuous,
but am of an age when everything,
even the long buried sins and unkept promises, poke and **** nonstop,
and the formulae once relied upon
to ease incipient self-deception,
to temporize and salve the consternations
of unkempt aggravated remorse failures,
as aged misdemeanors be matured felonies,
I blurt and declare guilt to all, alas,
and yet,
always an
and yet
in the ultimate crushing of
tardiness, knotted by an indignity of silence,
no one is desirous
of taking my***
confession
5:10pm
Thu Jan 28
2023
Jan 30, 2023
Jan 30, 2023 at 3:41 PM UTC
She is the cold fire that snaps at my skin
Making me long for the heartburning
That scalds and scars the flesh within
Dark hair dark desirous eyes
Dark nights of passion till I realize
That she has drained me
Supped the juices from my lust
Drunk from all the fury my love gives
And suddenly she lives
Like a vampire
Mesmerizing
One blood drop at a time
She slurps me up like I am some cheap wine
And I swoon under her power
Consumed by her hunger
As she completely devours me
Till I beg for more
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 10:17 AM UTC
If I had an apple
i would have eaten it with her,
sitting close by,
looking eye to eye,
under the umbrella shade
of a tree, near a corn field,
with the view of a lone hill,
at the far, far end.
An ****** experience
it would have been for us,
turned on by her eyes
a bite I would take from the apple,
then, it's her turn
as soon as she does that
I would ****** it from her, once again,
tasting her saliva on it
would electrify my tongue,
and evoke distant animal past.
Green corns sway desirous
in the playful naughtiness of the wind,
slowly proximity works, as the worst intoxicant.
By and by nature's prompt,
gets in to our blood streams.
She would get bold, sensing
that lonely spot's intent,
slowly remove her jacket first
then one by one, the rest,
standing before me naked,
sensuality personified.
*I am an illogically crazy wind,
swooping, over the water: her.
I'd repeatedly blow over her,
till she uncontrollably erupts*
she has eaten from my apple,
I've tasted hers;
without deceit or evil, we indulge,
and partake the gifts we within hold.
Jul 27, 2012
Jul 27, 2012 at 3:43 PM UTC
Every ocean deserves to see YOU
And feel jealous of your beauty
Every sunrise deserves to see you
And be envy of your shine
Every flower deserves to see you
And be covetous of your colors & fragrance
Every cloud deserves to see you
And be mad at your gaiety float
Every river deserves to see you
And be ashamed of its own curves
Every dew deserves to reflect you
And be possessive of your image in it
Every leaf deserves to touch you
And let besotted by your skin
Every fish deserves to swim with you
And be ashamed of your flirtation with water
Every fruit deserves to taste YOU
And feel insecure of your nectar sweetness
Every breeze deserves to cling your body
And feel lustful of your brilliance
Every birds deserves to accompany you
And desirous of the smooth wings in flight
Every star deserves to see you
And be paranoid of your angelic sparkle
Every moonlight deserves to light YOU
And be jilted by your illumination
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 12:04 AM UTC
Dreams flower in the silence of morning,
Fragile wishes
For tomorrow's tomorrows....
I feel his touch,
Tangible,
My heightened pulse
Aroused;
The wanton shivers,
Desirous and smitten;
The magma flows, deep in my soul;
Where his scorch of passion burns...
Embers sear, crimson,
Masquerading masked desires,
Dripping from his tongue's tip;
Sultry trickles graze upon my flesh,
A gentle sting, as fire-licks
His breath across my thighs,
A bite of ecstasy, murmur-whispering
Carnal need…
Imprints of insatiable,
Bind me willingly,
A fiery bandage
Piercing the scorch of hungry lips
Flaming my *******
With breath dissolved inside a kiss...
He savours the honey stream,
Branding his name upon my
Swelling, luscious pink…
Deeply buried
Arching into his mouth
Unable to contain the flame
Tambourines of skin seep ecstasy,
Ripen succulence untamed...
Kaleidoscoping emotions
Rainbow the thunder of my heart;
Milk and honey fuse,
Pulsing,
As rivers of love flood my core...
One love,
One passion,
One desire,
Bodies merging..........
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 4:17 PM UTC